The Guest Cat

“Observation is at its core an expression of love which doesn’t get caught up in sentiment.”

From first page’s delicate description of an optical illusion seen on a frosted window pane, this novella painstakingly documents minute and admiring observations, one object at a time. Nature features strongly: the cat, trees, butterflies, insects, but also windows and boundaries. The focus is on poetic beauty in the moment (like haiku), without shadow of sentiment, even when there is good cause for strong emotion.

I’m not a fan of sentimentality, but the narrator’s precise and clinical prose gave the impression of detachment, even when the words themselves suggested otherwise. I think that is why I was not as emotionally engaged show more as I wanted to be: I was looking at the patterns of his story as shadows through a knothole onto a frosted window pane, “like a dim movie screen”.

Loving the Unattainable

Cats tend to own people, rather than the other way round.

The main love object is Chibi: un- or not-quite-attainable because she’s a cat, exacerbated by her living with neighbours the other side of the alley. The narrator and his wife are her secondary humans.

All the other attachments (apart from the narrator to his wife) have a degree of unattainability as well. There is a hole at the heart, in the heart, of this little book, and maybe in me as well.

“By moving away, we also would be joining sides with those who forget.”
But maybe that’s for the best - especially if your love is without sentiment, or is unattainable.

Why Not More Stars?

There is beautiful imagery, and there are recurring themes (the guest cat, and the narrator living in the guesthouse of a larger estate; boundaries; windows; a zelkova tree; insects, and lightning), and Chibi is virtually mute.

I felt there was significance over the horizon, just beyond my awareness and understanding, grasp though I did for it.

The final chapter was unexpected and a little odd: disregard or reconsider the timeline and circumstances of Chibi’s death, half a book ago. Huh?

It’s also worth mentioning that there is not as much about Chibi as hardcore felinophiles might want. And for some strange reason, we’re told that the narrator’s wife “felt very close to animals” - except that she “viscerally disliked”... ducks!

On the other hand, I love the picture on the cover, and the small format and thick paper of my copy felt delightfully suitable.

Quotes

• “Its branches... spread unhindered [and] extended their luxuriant fingers… providing all with the blessing of its leafy protection.”

• “The cat’s manner of rejection was like cold, white light.”

• Chibi sleeping “like a talisman curled gently in the shape of a comma and dug up from a prehistoric archaeological site - a deep sense of happiness arrived, as if the house itself had dreamed this scene.”

• Chibi entered their lives “as if a silken opening in a fabric had been continuously moistened and stretched… But at the same time… something else was closing in and pressing itself against that tendency.” Fate.

• “Everything timed to the rhythm of illumination and concealment” - in a chapter almost entirely devoted to windows.

• “The full moon shone through the glass eaves above us with their slits like a bamboo screen, so that the image was drawn out, flowing there like a milky white river.”

• A dragonfly “took flight then and approached the stream of [hose] water in midair, kissing it like a precision machine.”

• “It seemed as if the boundary between the two households had itself come into question.”

• “How much we see through colored glasses” - but we only realise when it’s too late. (This is about everything looking “dreary and drab” after loss.)

• “The word ‘to grieve’ or ‘lament’ in Japanese is actually made up of two different kanji characters - ‘sadness’ and ‘resentment’. show less

Definitivamente, la literatura japonesa sobre gatos NO es sobre gatos. Los felinos no son más que una excusa, como mucho un disparador para algo más. «Vine por las mascotas, me quedé por los temas subyacentes»: una trampa perfecta.

En este caso, el gato representa un cambio, pero también una nostalgia infinita. «[b:El gato que venía del cielo|22702917|El gato que venía del cielo|Takashi Hiraide|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1404998088l/22702917._SY75_.jpg|24515019]» trata en realidad sobre la vida cotidiana de una pareja, con sus pequeños tedios y alegrías, en el Japón de los '80s.

La prosa del autor es exquisita. Es una novela tremendamente costumbrista, en la que a cada paso que dan show more los protagonistas se va pintando un cuadro. Esa es la sensación que me genera cada descripción, cada suceso. A veces, incluso, se le va un poco la mano a Hiraide con el nivel de detalle; llegando a ser apabullante cuando habla sobre la disposición de las casas en la vecindad donde ocurre el encuentro con el animalito que da título al libro.

Y como dije, la nostalgia. Es vivir en un mundo perfecto, pero a sabiendas de que ya empieza a desmoronarse, a caer; como una espiral creciente que todo lo envuelve, y que tarde o temprano termina con todo lo que es bello en nuestro mundo. Pero en una forma muy sutil, lo que tal vez sea aún más cruel. show less

Szemlélődős könyv. És mivel jobbára egy macskát szemlélnek benne, macskarajongóknak különösen ajánlott. Én macskarajongónak nem mondanám magam – egy kölcsönmacskánk van, bizonyos Bence, aki időnként bejön a lakásba kunyerálni, meg pompázatos biodíszletként szunyálni szunyálásra amúgy tökéletesen alkalmatlan helyeken –, de még engem is lenyűgözött az a háztáji Attenborough-ra hajazó higgadt aprólékosság, amivel a szerző figyeli ezt a Csibi nevezetű jószágot. Meg úgy nagyjából mindent: európai szemmel – mert nekem igenis európai szemem van, vállalom! – teljesen szokatlan az a már-már vallásos áhítat, ahogy a létezés legapróbb momentumai is (egy szitakötő, vagy akár show more egy fadarab) mintegy valós méretük többszörösére nőnek ebben a szövegben… Az embernek az a benyomása, hogy mintha valami fontosabb dolog helyett beszélnének macskákról meg szitakötőkről… holott erről szó sincs. Mert nincs olyan, hogy csak macska, vagy csak szitakötő. Macska van, meg szitakötő, és bennük tükröződik a szemlélő a maga teljességében, a maga egész világával. Ő maga a szöveg, bármiről is szóljon. Kellemesen meditatív olvasmány – de jó pillanatban kell elkapni. show less

This is a thoughtful, philosophical tale about the impact an animal can have on people, even when they don't own the animal. It captures the aloof exploitative nature of a cat who charms a couple with its independence and seeming unavailability. When the cat disappears from their lives, it leaves them bereft and causes friction between them and their neighbour, the cat's true owner. Set on the cusp of change, from Shōwa to Heisei, from economic bubble to slump, it inhabits a calm space bound by feline comings and goings.

Poetic little book about the emotional connection between humans and cats. On a secondary level it also describes the complex feelings between people i.e. the reciprocated younger renting couple's respect and fondness for their elderly landlords. As well as the jealousy of the neighbors (who believed they were the true "owners" of Chibi) to the young renting couple who visited often by Chibi loved him too.

Couple worked professionally in creative fields, often with other creative people. The narrator describes so many things he sees and feels in beautiful, scientific detail. Had me wondering if book was actually non-fiction. How is it possible to write both poetically and scientifically? I would not think the two fields could work show more together.

Takashi Hiraide has created a lovely, touching, intelligent gem of a book. show less

What an odd book. IS it just scenes described? Lots of minutia, details about the garden, how light reflects through fence knotholes, shape of streets, size of rooms, and more,.
Then there's the cat. Not the author's cat, but a feline that infiltrates itself, as cats can, into the life and space of the author and his wife.
It was at about this point, one-third of the way through this novella, that I realised I had slowed down my pace to match Haraide's relaxed way. It's a slow burn. Even then without much heat. The images and events seem to hover like an angora blanket settling over your bed and into your head.
There is a narrative here, even a few thin plot lines. But there's something else poetic and beautiful. And it's not only about show more the cat. show less

2001 - I feel that the very end (with the timeline of Guest Cat's demise) undercuts the pleasure of the rest of the book. Is the author making an accusation?